Sea Shepherds
by Lothithil
Summary: An adventure on the High Seas awakens MacGyver's interest in conservation. Pre-season, AU, crossover with Captain Paul Watson's book, 'Ocean Warrior'. Story is fictional, names are respectfully borrowed. On hiatus.
1. Chapter 1 The Wrong Ship

**Note from Loth:** I feel the need particularly with this fic to make the following **disclaimer**:

'MacGyver' characters and trademarks are the property of Paramount. They are respectfully used in this story without permission.

This story inspired by the adventures of Captain Paul Watson and the _Sea Shepherd, _references taken from his book_ 'Ocean Warrior'_, also used without permission but with the utmost respect intended.

I have used names of people, places, and ships involved, but the story is completely fictional.

This story contains some graphic violence, but no cetaceans (or humans) were harmed in the writing of this fic.  
Thanks to 'Beth for beta and much needed editing!

* * *

**Mac's Voice Over:  
**_You never know when something is going to happen to you that will change your life. Sometimes, you don't even know it __when_ _it happens. It follows you like a shadow, silent and easy to ignore… especially if you are like me, running from place to place too fast to look back._

_Other times, it hits you like a ton of bricks…and there can be no doubt in your mind that you'll never be the same again. That's what happened to me after I found myself stranded on the Azores Islands. _

_My friends and I had planned to travel through Europe together, but when we had some 'interesting' times in Martinique, we had to leave those islands quietly and quickly. Jack, resourceful fellow that he was, had found seats on a commercial flight… but only for two of us. I told him to take Mike with him and I'd meet them in Madrid in a few weeks. I was sure that I could get a ride on a tramp freighter or something; I was good on a ship, having worked my way across the Adriatic on a steamer not long before. _

_I did find a berth… but when we reached Azores, the freighter's captain was arrested and his ship was impounded. I didn't stick around long enough to learn why; I narrowly managed to escape being arrested with the rest of the crew by hiding in the engine-room while the ship was towed to the impound yard, where I slipped off in the dark of the night and disappeared into the city of Ponta Delgata._

_I made friends with some local fishermen, who took me in and helped me blend as a local, staying under the radar of the police. It was through them that I heard about a fishing vessel that was discreetly searching for new crewmembers. 'Discreetly' being a euphemism for 'willing to hire anybody useful, no questions asked'. _

_I didn't ask any questions myself--though maybe I should have. I_ _signed on as the engineer's assistant. Once I was introduced to the ships engines, I was kept busy. There was __always __something going wrong with the engines. _

_The crew was tough, close-mouthed, and suspicious—I avoided them as much as possible. The captain was a coarse Norwegian fellow with the disposition of a barracuda, only colder. He was ruthless and demanding of the men, but dissent among the crew was unheard of. There was a sense that contrary sailors tended to disappear during the night watches._

_I worked hard to stay out of the captain's sight. But one day a call came down for an engineer... and guess who got sent up to answer the call? Yep, you guessed it... Yours Truly!_

**Sea Shepherds  
Chapter One: The Wrong Ship**

On a bitter gray sea, a small ship nosed through choppy waves. She rolled in the swells, heavy for her size because of her unique design; heavy engines, processing machinery, and refrigeration units filled out her lines. Her stern slipway gaped like a greedy maw, ready to sip the bloody water she left in her wake. Never needing to return to port until her holds were bursting-full, the _Sierra _was a floating factory and warehouse… as well as an abattoir. Her quarry were whales, and she prowled the whole of the Atlantic, north and south of the equator, ignoring territories and international regulations, killing whales wherever she found them.

She was very, very good at finding them.

_Sierra_ sailed this day just as she had every day since she'd left port, cutting through the waters at a cagey speed, seeking her prey. She was capable of moving much faster, but she didn't need it now. She waited for the inevitable signs; a white ripple of foam like a breaker where there was no surf; a hint of darkness beneath the water, or the unmistakable flag of spume shooting skyward.

Such signs had been spotted just after the morning sun had risen. Seamen were moving about the deck, singing and chattering and shouting obscenities at one another as they worked to prepare the ship for the catch. It was another working day, as far as they were concerned; the more meat they packed in the hull, the sweeter their cut of the cash.

But the optimism of the crew wasn't shared by their captain. Arvid Nordengen propped his fists on his hips and glared at his men. His mind was as restless as the sea he exploited, but today he wasn't thinking about how many kills it would take to fill his hold... he was looking for a saboteur.

The troubles had begun before they'd first put into harbor in Portugal—they had trouble with the power supply to the refrigeration units, which had to be expensively repaired before they could get underway again. Then several of the crew went missing; Nordengen had been forced to hire whatever he could get as replacements. Like most of his crew, they were scupper rats and ruffians, with dark, weathered faces and rough hands. As long as they had strong backs and empty pockets, _Sierra_ would use any man... but the captain was finding reason to regret his hasty recruitment.

Spoilages in the mess, engine failures, and vital components of electrical equipment inexplicably damaged—it was too much to believe it was coincidence. If it had all happened in port, he would have suspected those damned Greenpeace degenerates who touted themselves around the world as 'enforcers' for international conservation. Nordengen called them 'pirates'. But the problems had followed them out to sea, so he couldn't blame any of those land-hugging hippies.

Captain Nordengen turned to his first mate, to question him about the newer crew members, when he spotted something that made him forget about vinegar in the coffee grounds or missing fuses. In the distance, a geyser of mist shot upward; a submarine body broke the surface of the gray sea.

"Dead ahead! See 'er! She's dead ahead! Harpooner! Man your station!" Nordengen shouted. He muscled his first mate aside and took the controls personally, swinging the nose of the ship to cut across the whale's wake and give his man a clear shot.

Knut Hustvedt was an expert harpooner, but he needed all the help that he could get to target the huge creature sporting in the rough sea beyond their starboard bow. His job was always a balancing act of time... waiting long enough for the best shot, but not so long that the whale had time to dive down beyond the reach of his cold irons. He had the advantage of modern equipment however... one true strike would be all he needed, as the harpoon was equipped with an explosive head.

The whale blew water up like a geyser. _Sierra_ was so close that Knut could feel it falling like rain on his shoulders. He sighted on his target and found the shot good... but when he depressed the trigger and the harpoon sang out of the barrel, there was a mighty jolt!

The cable attached to the harpoon was entangled, and the force of the harpoon firing had snapped the line. The spear spun away and sank into the sea, the coiling cable behind the snare unspooled and fell to a tangled mess on the deck. A hot smell filled Knut's nostrils, telling him that the harpoon gun's winding mechanism was stripped and likely ruined.

_Captain was **not** going to like this!_

"_**Goddamit!" **_Nordengen roared, swearing all down the length of the ship as he blustered his way toward the bow and the smoking ruins of his harpoon gun. Not many of the other words he said could be understood; the captain ranted in his native tongue, foamy spittle flying from his chin like spume. "Get an engineer up here to fix this friggin' thing!"

Knut climbed out of the chair, calm as a surgeon. He opened one of the boxes bolted to the deck near the cannon, and extracted something that looked like a surface-to-air missile; a hand launcher for a harpoon. It was much lighter and smaller than the barbs fired by the cannon, but they could be just as deadly. Nordengen kept a number of these smaller weapons on hand for just such an occurrence; it might take more shots to kill a whale with the smaller harpoons... unless the harpooner was exceedingly skillful.

Knut carried the weapon to the bow of the ship, climbing out to the very end of the elongated prow. He sighted on the whale, now several hundred yards away… too far to take a shot. He didn't shout, but raised his arm to signal to steer the ship's pilot to close the distance.

Nordengen noticed what Knut was doing and finally stopped his ranting and raving. He hurried back to the control cabin, shoving the engineer he had just summoned out of his way, sending the man sprawling to the deck.

MacGyver tried to roll with the fall, but he came up hard against the base of the cannon with his head. Stars danced behind his eyes.

Knut lowered the harpoon launcher. Setting it on the deck, he moved to where MacGyver lay and offered the man a hand up. "Ja, you are all right?" His accent was thick, but his English was very good.

MacGyver looked up at him for a moment before accepting his hand. Knut heaved him upward easily, steadying him as he wavered a bit with the motion of the deck as the captain revved the engine. "I'm fine… just a knock." Mac touched his forehead and checked his fingers. "No blood… I must be okay."

Knut offered him an ironic smile. "Enough blood later. Hopefully not yours. Come and help me. We fix the harpoon later."

MacGyver followed him to the bowsprit platform. "Take the cable and secure it," Knut directed. Mac did what he was told, feeling a little detached by his fall and the constant rocking of the ship, but aware of the fact that the captain was watching them both closely. He anchored the harpoon cable firmly.

Knut raised his harpoon again, and MacGyver saw the target. A great whale broke the surface of the water about fifty yards ahead.

MacGyver's breath caught in his chest. He'd seen whales before, from a distance, and he'd always been impressed by their size and grace. This whale was so close that he could see clusters of barnacles crusting the massive nose. He saw not one but two blow-holes above its flattened rostrum, and through them he heard the great beast make several exhalations. The glistening skin covering the back of the beast was brownish-gray, and as it swum by, MacGyver glimpsed a pale patch of skin on its right jaw. A fin whale, Mac guessed. A big one, too! he thought, judging the distance from its pointed snout to its dorsal fin.

MacGyver's wonder became horror as Knut fired his harpoon. The shiny flesh that looked so hard and impenetrable was pierced easily by the cruel shaft, creating its own geyser as it struck the whale and the explosive head of the shaft detonated.

A spout of red burst from the wound and the sea trembled perceptively as the great creature thrashed in pain. The cable whined as it was spent out violently, then the ship shuddered as it was drawn tight as the whale fought to escape. MacGyver grabbed the rail to prevent himself from flying overboard as a wave of bloody water washed over the bow and drenched him. It was icy, but it was nothing compared to the cold he felt inside. He fought to keep himself from retching.

The whale was rolling and thrashing in the water, yanking the cable this way and that. MacGyver watched, praying that the beast could somehow break free; but the cable was built for this kind of pressure, and the harpoon had been fired true. The whale was dying.

It turned on its side, the white chevrons tracing down its flanks visible in the tainted water. MacGyver saw one of its eyes; blue and slitted like a Siamese cat, but as big as a softball. He felt himself held in the whale's regard, and a flash of insight and recognition passed over him like a charge of electricity.

**Mac's Voice-over:  
**_I can't say why I felt what I felt, but somehow I knew that the whale saw me… saw me, recognized me, knew me…and though all that I've ever learned told me that it was impossible, I saw sadness in his eyes. At that moment, I knew that I was witnessing the death—the murder—of an intelligent creature. And all I could do was watch._

_The great beast in the water ceased his struggling, his life and pain ended at last. I felt sick knowing that I had helped kill him._


	2. Chapter 2 Monkey Wrench

**Sea Shepherds  
Chapter Two: Monkey Wrench**

MacGyver was sitting on the edge of a bunk in the closet that was used for sickbay aboard the _Sierra_, holding an icepack to his forehead. When the doctor—if a doctor he was at all; an oily, taciturn fellow with clammy, white hands—went out of the hatch, Mac saw Knut waiting outside.

The harpooner grinned at MacGyver as he stepped inside, yet there was a sober look in the man's eyes suggested to Mac he wasn't really amused by the circumstances.

"Feeling better, _ja?_ Bump on the head, it can make a man lose his stomach."

"So can being bathed in blood," MacGyver mumbled frankly. "But I guess the concussion doesn't help." MacGyver swallowed, closing his eyes as a wave of nausea that had nothing to do with his head swept through him again. He pressed the icepack more firmly, until the pain there made everything else fade in to the background.

Knut nodded. "I see it before. This is your first hunt,_ ja?_ I can tell." He sat down on another bunk. "I am Knut."

"Call me Mac." MacGyver offered a handshake; Knut grasped his forearm instead, giving him a comradely greeting.

"I have hunted the whale for many years. With time, it gets easier; you learn not to look in the eyes." Knut scrutinized MacGyver closely. "Is something more… you are not whaler at all," he observed.

"No, I'm not. I had no idea that this was a whaling ship—until about half an hour ago."

"_Sierra_, she has the slip-stern, the harpoon cannon on the bow," Knut dropped his voice, glancing around cautiously. "How could you _**not**_ know?"

MacGyver sighed. "I confess that I didn't look the ship over before I signed on... I just needed a ship to get to carry me to Spain and the pickings were slim. Besides, I thought that it was illegal to hunt whales in international waters."

Knut's face became grim. "There are no courtrooms on the sea."

"Still, if I had known, I'd have made other arrangements."

"Well, there is no 'making arrangements' now. Our captain… he won't like knowing that you balk at the kill—"Knut shook his head. "He's already fuming about the poor luck we've had this voyage. When he learns that you don't belong here… he will think you are spy."

"I'm no spy, but I agree with you—I don't belong here. I can hardly wait for us to put in at Leixões."

Knut frowned. "You may find that you have a wait ahead of you, my friend. We will not make port until the holds are full… and that will take some time. It may be some weeks before you see land."

"Weeks? But they said… when I signed on, that we were bound for Portugal!"

"Eventually… maybe. If captain chooses to. You may just as easy find yourself in Iceland. Our captain, he doesn't care much about making crew happy."

"Oh, god," Mac mumbled, "There must be some other way off this ship!"

"There is… but you would not like it, I'm thinking." Knut grinned again; his teeth were bright white against his weather-tanned skin. "It is a long swim, and these waters are not friendly. Keep to the engine room… and keep away from the captain… is all you can do, I think."

"What about you," Mac asked. "You're the first person on this tub that's given me the time of day… or that I'd want to ask. But as First Mate, isn't it your responsibility to tell the captain about me?"

"My responsibility is the harpoon. I do not choose to be First Mate; I feel as if I am the one being hunted, yes?" Knut's grin faded. "If not for the captain, I am sure I'd be throat-cut and tossed to the sharks by crewman wanting my job."

"The captain protects you?"

"No." Knut chuckled. "He is bigger target."

"This is no way to live, Knut." MacGyver lowered the icepack and said, "I'm not really sure why you're telling me all this… I'm grateful for your friendship."

Knut shrugged. "This is a cold business. I cannot call any of these men 'friend'. They would sink the knife as soon as the back turns! But when I see you suffering, I knew you are not like them."

"I can see that you are not like them, either, Knut… but I wonder how you can make a living like this."

"This has been my life since I was child. I learned from my father and grandfather at sea. They make Captain Nordengen seem like… how you say in American… um, pussy-cat!" Knut laughed dryly, then added in a more serious tone, "When you can do a thing—and do it better than any other man—it is difficult to stop doing it. The heart sometimes wants change… but the head and the hands…" Knut made a juggling motion with his hands, "they like to do what they know.

"Still, you never guess what the future will bring, eh? Tomorrow things may change… whether we want them to or not." Knut stood up and walked to the exit. "I fix the harpoon gun now… I tell Captain that you are not well. I think he will not seek you here… he does not like the sickbay."

"Knut," the Norwegian turned at the sound of MacGyver's voice, "Would the captain really promote a man to your job if that man killed you?"

"Why not? A ship must have a First Mate. Nordengen… that is how he became captain, _ja?_" With a wink, Knut left MacGyver alone.

xxxxx

When MacGyver returned to the engine room, Hüdke the third engineer took one look at him and laughed around a mouthful of chewing tobacco.

"What happened to you, Yank?"

MacGyver touched his bruised forehead ruefully. "Wrong place… wrong time."

"Well, that's what you get for going topside during a hunt," Hüdke chortled, choked, and then spat on the floor. He thrust a large wrench toward MacGyver. "Number two is hiccupping again… take this spanner and see what you can do to smooth 'er out."

"If Chief Engineer Rynn sees you spitting on the floor," Mac said as he accepted the tool, "he'll make you scrub the walkways with a toothbrush. Again."

"Arrogant bastard," Hüdke began to spit again, but thought better of it. His cheek twitched as he swallowed. "This is an engine room…not a galley! Why does it have to be clean enough to eat off of blisterin' floor?" Mac didn't answer him, but Hüdke didn't notice; he continued to ramble and swear, "If'n it's not one damned thing, it's another! First the fuel tanks get seawater in 'em and I have to dump a shit-load of diesel, and now the stinking engines are shaking themselves apart. And what is that bastard Rynn doing? Sitting in his office playing with his radio and getting drunk! Chief engineer, my ass!"

"How did seawater get into the fuel tanks?"

"How the hell do I know? I'm just the second engineer! Go ask the Chief— the stupid limey snot-hole—he knows everything!"

"Yeah, okay… whatever." Anything to stay busy, Mac thought. And anything to get out of a conversation with Hüdke; the man's vocabulary of racist slurs was second only in vileness to the overwhelming stench of his unwashed body.

"Hurry up," was Hüdke's response as he wandered away. Mac waved a hand in front of his face, fanning away the rank odor. He knelt next to the number two engine and removed the access cover panel.

The panels were kept in place to protect the engines, but they were never locked. Chief Engineer Rynn hated to be disturbed by people constantly coming to him for keys. So the only thing kept under lock and key in the engine room was the liquor in Rynn's office. There was a rule against having liquor on board, of course, but the Chief enjoyed exercising his privileges. As long as the engine crew did their work, kept the engine room clean, and didn't interrupt him while he was drinking his scotch and listening to a game, he pretty much allowed them to do whatever they wished. He certainly had no problem with his new assistant engineer working all the time; he was rarely sober enough to notice, truth to tell.

MacGyver lifted the panel away and set it aside. He watched to gears and belts turning, listening to the sound of the engine as it chugged along. He could hear the problem; a catch in the rhythm as the pistons fired and a deep rattle that should not be there.

Frowning, Mac shut down the engine. He lay on his back and wormed his way beneath until only his feet were visible, sticking out of the access.

Using a penlight he carried in his pocket, Mac checked over all the parts of the engine. He'd just serviced this one the day before, and he knew that everything should be working smoothly.

It didn't take him long to find the problem. Diesel oil dripped from the edge of the machine; all the bolts around it were loose enough to turn with bare fingers. Grumbling, MacGyver tightened all the bolts. He'd had that engine apart yesterday, and he was sure that he'd put them all on good and tight when he'd finished. Someone must have loosened them deliberately!

Mac squirmed his way out of the engine and refilled the oil that had leaked out. After he tightened the last cap, he set his wrench down on top of the engine housing to wipe away a spill, but when he tried to pick his wrench up again, it stuck to the metal as if by an adhesive.

Mac tugged on it harder; it came free reluctantly. He ran a hand over the metal and felt nothing that would cause it to stick. He placed the wrench there again. It sprang from his fingers with a loud CLANG and stuck to the panel again.

Curious, he leaned down and peered under the housing. Up inside, under the metal skin of the engine, a large magnet clung. MacGyver reached in and wrestled with it until it came free.

Along with it came a folded piece of paper. Mac wiped his dirty hands on his coverall, gingerly unfolding the paper to see what it was.

Whatever it was, it was written in a language Mac didn't know. Frowning at the paper, he turned it this way and that, trying to guess what it was. Columns of inked words in unfamiliar script scrolled down one side of the page, and next to them a sketchy diagram had been drawn, with more words written in the same language.

Someone had hidden this paper where they thought that no one would find it. Mac wouldn't have found it, if the engine hadn't needed maintenance. Mac knew he should put it back where it was, so that whoever put it there would not know that it had been found, but he also wanted to know what it said.

Deciding quickly, MacGyver replaced the engine panel and hurried back to sickbay.

He peeked quickly around the corner, and when he was sure that there was no one inside, he went in and headed for the exam table.

Like most exam tables, it was covered with a sheet of hygienic paper. Mac pulled the paper down and tore off a square about a foot long. He laid the folded paper he'd found on the hard surface of the doctor's desk and put the square of paper on top of it. With smooth long strokes, he began to run the magnet over the papers.

When he peeled it up, he smiled. The ink had just enough iron oxide in it to be attracted to the magnet, and a faint copy of the writing was mirrored on the sheet. He folded his homemade xerox and carefully hid it inside his clothes. Then he quickly returned to the engine room and replaced the magnet and the folded paper where it had been. He looked around and saw nobody. He hoped that his caper had gone unnoticed.

xxxxx

MacGyver was eager for a few minutes alone where he could look again at the paper he'd copied, but that was impossible. Before he'd managed to get back to his bunk, a klaxon sounded throughout the ship, summoning all hands to the deck.

Mac scrambled with the other crewmen to assemble. Most had been busy slaughtering the whale; blood stained their clothes and hands. Mac wondered what could have happened that the captain would have interrupted the entire ship for an assembly in the middle of the day… then he saw the other ship.

Off to port and astern of the _Sierra_, she galloped through the rough seas like a spirited horse in tall grass. She was a trawler, but she wasn't outfitted for her design. She looked as if she'd been stripped down for speed, and she had it; she gained visibly on the _Sierra _as Mac was watching.

The whole crew watched, wide-eyed and nervous, as the ship closed the distance between then. _Sierra_ had been riding the water, her engines idle while the last catch was being processed. MacGyver felt the deck vibrate under his shoes as the engines engaged and the ship began to surge through the water. It wasn't going to help, though; the ship stalking them was already at full speed and continued to gain.

The klaxon was still hooting throughout the ship; Mac looked for the captain, spotted him through the windows of the pilot house. He was shouting at his bridge crew and gesturing wildly. Mac saw Chief Engineer Rynn as he dashed up the steps to report. Nordengen pushed the man toward the radio, still shouting, now covering his ears. Rynn bent over the ships sound system and abruptly the klaxon was silenced.

MacGyver was about to try to edge closer to the wheelhouse in hopes that he could overhear what was being said when the loudspeakers all over the ship crackled loudly and the radio began to broadcast for the entire crew to hear.

"_Sierra, Sierra._" A man's voice, firm and seething with barely controlled anger.

MacGyver saw Nordengen raise the microphone to his bearded lips. "This is the _Sierra_."

"Goddamn you, you whale-killing son of a bitch, your career is going to end today."

--tbc--


	3. Chapter 3 The Pirate

**Sea Shepherds  
Chapter Three: The Pirate**

MacGyver felt a certain detached sense of calmness coming over him as he watched the other ship closing with them; her bow seemed to stretch toward them like the point of a harpoon, sharp and deadly. He could read clearly the name painted on her prow: _Sea Shepherd_.

"Who is this?" Everyone could hear the captain's voice loud and clear, broadcasting over the loudspeakers. "What do you want, eh?"

"Clear your decks," the voice commanded. "I've got you, you bastard. Prepare to be rammed. Repeat, I intend to ram you."

The crew began to mutter; Mac saw that several of them had abandoned the assembly to disappear into the questionable safety of the hold.

"He's bluffing!" Captain Nordengen shouted. "He wouldn't dare ram us – he'll sink himself in the process!"

"The captain is wrong," a voice breathed in MacGyver's ear. Mac turned to see Knut standing behind him. The sea wind was whipping his blond hair crazily around his tanned face, and he looked like a Viking straight out of the bloodiest folktale Mac could imagine.

Knut was holding a rifle in his hands. "I suggest that you find something to hold on to. If that man is who I think he is … he will most certainly ram us."

"Who is it?" MacGyver asked.

"His name is Watson. I have heard tales. He sails the oceans to save the whales. He once placed himself between a whale and a Soviet kill-boat. He has no thought for his own life at all – he only cares about the whales."

"He sounds crazy!"

"Ja, he is quite mad." Knut grinned. "I am curious to see what will happen now."

MacGyver watched as _Sea Shepherd_ raced with _Sierra_. The ship was close; he could see clearly into the wheelhouse.

A man with a thick shock of black hair was at the helm. Another man appeared out of the hold and ran to the wheelhouse. Holding his side as if he had a stitch, the man gasped out a message to his captain, who responded calmly. Mac saw them grin at each other, then to his wonder he saw the black-haired man raise a camera toward the _Sierra_ and snap off several shots. He then reached up to sound the air horn mounted to the roof of the cabin to signal imminent collision.

"Here we go!" Knut grabbed MacGyver by the collar and hauled him back just as the entire ship shuddered violently.

The _Sea Shepherd_ struck _Sierra_ just behind the gunner's platform, her concrete-reinforced bow delivering a massive bite to the smaller vessel. _Sierra_ shrieked as metal twisted; the deck tilted crazily as she heeled over to her starboard side. _Sea Shepherd_ shouldered her aside and kept going.

MacGyver found himself on the deck as the ship righted herself; _Sierra_ bobbed like a crazy cork in the water after the _Sea Shepherd_ passed. He heard Knut laughing somewhere ahead of him, and when he raised his head, he saw the man standing beside the gunwale, holding the rifle above his head like a trophy, laughing. MacGyver shook his head in wonder.

"She's taken off the harpoon! What a hit!" MacGyver couldn't figure out why Knut seemed so pleased. The man seemed delighted that some lunatic captain was trying to sink the boat from beneath them!

"**Knut!!**" A commanding voice hammered down from above them. Captain Nordengen was beside himself with anger and shock. "That goddamned pirate... where is that rifle? Get up here and shoot that – " the captain's words dissolved into a string of harsh Norwegian that MacGyver was sure could not be found in any nautical dictionary – in any language.

Mac couldn't see where the other ship had gone; she had swung around to _Sierra_'s starboard side, out of his sight temporarily. He hurried forward to assess the damage that had been done. If the ship was going to sink, he wanted to know. _Sierra's_ captain seemed more interested in shooting at their attacker than protecting his own ship and crew. Mac could hear him shouting angrily above on the wheel deck as he made his way toward the bow.

The harpooner's platform was wrecked; the deck was buckled and the harpoon cannon had been dislodged and was now dangling over the side of the ship in a tangle of cable. Leaning over the gunwale, Mac could see the massive dent in the prow, giving _Sierra_ the look of having a broken nose.

The damage could have been much worse, MacGyver realized. Given the _Sea Shepherd's_ advantages of size, speed, strength, and tonnage, the captain could have easily ruptured the hull at the stern instead of the bow, where such damage would easily sink the _Sierra_ – especially given the extra weight of the refrigerated hold and its grisly cargo.

Mac couldn't see any holes in the hull below the waterline, but he could see, as he raised his gaze toward the steaming pirate, that the _Sea Shepherd_ was not satisfied with first blood. In spite of her superior speed, she was dropping back behind the _Sierra_ … clearly getting ready to make another run at her.

A crewman with a rifle ran past MacGyver. He positioned himself on the port side and began to load cartridges into the gun. He dropped a few; one rolled along the deck to MacGyver's feet.

He picked it up and examined it. It was a hollow-tipped round with a full metal jacket. Such a round was not intended for scare tactics or warning shots – it was meant to kill.

MacGyver reached the crewman just as _Sea Shepherd_ sounded a second warning blast. The crewman was squinting down the sights of the rifle, aiming at the men on the bridge, but before he could squeeze the trigger, MacGyver grasped the rifle's barrel in his left hand and shoved it upward, following the motion with a right cross to the fellow's bearded jaw. The rifle went off, the bullet ricocheting off of the railing of the wheelhouse above. The crewman folded onto the deck, clutching his face and cursing.

MacGyver looked to see how far away the _Sea Shepherd_ was. If Knut was using the same ammunition – Mac knew he would not miss his target.

Tossing the rifle over the rail into the sea, MacGyver took the stairs to the wheel deck two at a time. He saw the captain standing at the rail, pointing, and Knut beside him drawing a bead on the approaching ship. Mac heard the captain give his first mate an order: "Kill him."

"Knut! Don't – !" Mac shouted. He tried to intervene, but Nordengen straight-armed him back.

"You! What are you doing? That bastard is trying to sink my ship!"

"No, he isn't!" MacGyver retorted. "If he'd wanted to sink us... we'd **be** sinking! He's just trying to stop us – stop _you_! – from killing more whales!"

Nordengen's eyes gleamed suspiciously. "You're one of his, aren't you?" The captain took a step back, as if Mac were threatening him. He seemed to have forgotten about the ship speeding toward them; he grabbed at Knut's sleeve – ruining his aim in the process – and pulled the man between himself and MacGyver. "Him! He's the traitor … the saboteur!"

MacGyver stepped back himself, raising his hands. "What? No, I'm not – "

"Shoot him, Hustvedt! That's an order!"

In spite of the captain's jostling, Knut had not taken his eyes off of the _Sea Shepherd_; she was coming in and closing fast, her bow aiming just forward of the _Sierra's_ beam. He saw Watson across the shrinking gap between the ships, manning the helm, unflinching. The man raised something and pointed it toward the _Sierra_. Knut's muscles tightened to react – to raise his own weapon and return fire – but he quickly realized that it was not a gun that Watson was aiming at them … but a camera.

And then there was no more time. _Sea Shepherd_ struck again, this time several yards back from the _Sierra's_ bow. The entire ship quaked and there was a terrible sound of screaming metal; a flat, imperfect echo of the death cries of the many whales that had been sacrificed to the whaler's greed.

Again, _Sierra_ rolled onto her starboard side, the _Sea Shepherd_ mounting the smaller vessel briefly before executing an oddly graceful maneuver of pivoting off slightly and letting the _Sierra_ slam her damaged port side against _Sea Shepherd's_ reinforced hull. A dozen yards of _Sierra's_ portside hull crumpled inward as her support beams snapped like bones.

Everyone on the wheel deck grabbed for the rail as the ship tilted insanely. Debris that had been scattered by the first roll shifted across the deck. The helmsman clung to the wheel while the captain cursed his attacker, shrieking obscenities at the top of his lungs.

The ships were hull-to-hull, the bridges of both vessels no more than fifty feet apart. The captain of the _Sea Shepherd_ waved at Nordengen and shouted, "This is for the whales, asshole!"

MacGyver had just lifted his face to peer over the rail when he felt a hand close on his arm, helping him upright.

Knut spoke in his ear. "You don't belong on this ship, my friend … and if you stay, the captain will remember that he told me to shoot you. So it is time for you to make 'other arrangements', ja?" And with that, Knut grabbed Mac by the collar and the belt and tossed him like a mackerel off the bridge of the _Sierra_.

Long practice enabled Mac to roll himself into a ball as he landed on the deck of the _Sea Shepherd_, just before the ship broke away from the _Sierra_ and surged ahead. Mac tumbled until he came up against the cabin, groaning. He'd be covered from head to toe with bruises, he was sure – if he wasn't tossed overboard by the captain of this vessel for trespassing.

But he managed to open his eyes and shake his head clear in time to see the _Sierra_ had engaged her engines finally and was steaming away toward the safety of Portugal with all the power she could muster. Mac could see the long tear that had been made in _Sierra_'s skin, rupturing her refrigerated hold, spilling the tons of meat that had been raped from the oceans. She was already beginning to list to port.

On the bridge of the _Sierra_, MacGyver could just make out the shape of Knut Hustvedt, holding his rifle over his head again. He imagined, or perhaps he actually heard, the laughter of the crazy Norwegian hunter as the _Sierra_ scrambled to get away from the vengeance of the shepherd of the sea.

--tbc--


	4. Chapter 4 The Shepherd

**Sea Shepherds, chapter four  
The Shepherd**

"Jerry, run down below and tell Peter that we're heading out to sea."

"Sure, Paul."

MacGvyer was still checking over his aching body for outstanding damage when he heard voices coming down from the wheel deck. One was the same voice he had heard blaring threats at the _Sierra_ over the ships' PA systems.

Without the amplification, the voice didn't sound so sinister. Still, MacGyver was a little nervous. He was aboard a ship without authorization – a ship commanded by a man who hadn't hesitated to ram another ship – a man that Knut had said some called a pirate. Mac wondered if he would end up swimming to Portugal after all.

Footsteps alerted MacGyver, and he instinctively crouched down beneath the stairs as another man appeared out of the hold. The man was excited and didn't see Mac; he dashed up the steps to the bridge two at a time, his boots ringing on the grilled metal.

Jerry had just turned to obey his captain's orders when a bearded man came running up to them. The two men nearly collided with each other. MacGyver could hear them clearly from his vantage point, right below the doorway, under the stairs.

"There you are, Peter." Watson's voice was jubilant. "We did it guys, we bloody well did!"

"We didn't sink her, goddamn it." A new voice, probably Peter, added soberly.

"We did what we could. It's not like we've got a lot of experience ramming ships. We sure as hell caused some damage! Look how she's listing ... she's gotta be taking on water!"

"Do you think we'll get away with this?" Jerry sounded worried.

"Looks good so far," Peter said. "We should make Spanish waters in a few hours – England in four days – if the weather holds."

"How much damage did we take?"

"Nothing that we can't fix with a paintbrush," Peter said. The volume of his voice changed as he crossed the bridge. "I swear that gray paint that the British Royal Navy gave us is like a damn force-field! We hardly got a scratch!"

"If they send the Portuguese military boats after us … they'll do more than scratch us," Jerry said, worrying again. "Do they torture prisoners in Portugal?"

"Just Yanks, I think," Peter said dryly, smirking underneath his beard when Jerry gulped and stammered until both men laughed.

"Nobody's going to torture you," Watson assured them. "They'd have to admit that their 'ghost ship' exists before they can bring charges against us at all … and they aren't about to do that."

"They don't have to bring charges against us to torture us," Jerry grumbled.

"Quit worrying, Jer. This is what we set out to do … and we did it! Just twelve days out of Boston and we found her. That's what I can't get over … that we actually _found_ her!"

"What do we do now?" Jerry asked.

"Tell the world. We let everyone know what we did … and dare them to arrest us. If they don't, we pick another target and do it again."

"And if they do arrest us?" Peter asked.

"Then we use the courts to bring as much attention to their illegal activities as possible. We create an international incident that can't but grab the attention of the media and the world!" Watson exclaimed. Then he added a dispassionate, "But they won't arrest us."

"What makes you so sure that they won't?"

"Because that's what my gut says. There's no way that the authorities can bring charges against us without recognizing the fact that the _Sierra_ is an outlaw whaler, operating in defiance of maritime law. She's got unpaid fines in every port from Cape Horn to Reykjavik. They'll never bring charges against us." Watson sighed. "I wish that they would, actually. It's the only thing that would really put the _Sierra_ out of business forever… save our putting her on the bottom of the Atlantic."

"Um, Paul …" Jerry said, alarm growing in his voice. "What does your gut say about a Portuguese destroyer?" Mac heard the steps of the other two men as they moved to look out of the viewports.

Cautiously, Mac crept around the rear of the cabin to see what had caught their attention. A ship was behind them – not the whaler that they had holed … but a military ship, dark and menacing. The colors of Portugal fluttered and snapped from their mast.

"Ah. I say … let's put on all speed ahead, boys. I want to cut a wake through Spanish waters before they can catch us. I'd rather report to the British authorities than go back to Leixões."

"Paul! Even at full speed we'll never outrun a destroyer!"

"Not if they really want to catch us, no. But they may just want to chase us out of their waters. Let's see what happens."

Peter left the bridge. Mac could hear him mumbling as he went down the steps. Mac remained still and hoped that the man didn't look in his direction. Eavesdropping probably wasn't the best way to introduce himself to the captain and crew. Luckily, Peter had enough on his mind that he didn't glance around as he returned to the engine room.

Once Peter was out of sight, MacGyver hauled himself up the steps to the wheelhouse.

Both men were still looking out of the windows toward the stern. MacGyver stood in the doorway and cleared his throat.

"Um … I realize that this is coming a little late – " The men turned swiftly at the sound of his voice, Jerry nearly jumping out of his boots while Watson merely looked surprised. " – but, may I have permission to come aboard?"

Jerry gaped at MacGyver, groping for something to use to defend himself against the sudden interloper. He fumbled with the antique belaying pin that was being used to hold down navigation charts; it slipped from his fingers and rolled off the edge of the table. Watson caught it deftly before it could smash anyone's toes.

"Easy there, Jer." Watson looked the newcomer over with a sharp eye before saying, "Where'd you come from, mate?"

"I hate to say it … but I was on board that ship you just knocked a hole in."

"You don't look like a whaler. Or any kind of Jack Tar for that matter."

"I'm not. I was on _that_ ship," Mac waved a hand in a throwaway gesture at the retreating _Sierra_, "entirely by mistake."

"And we're supposed to believe that?" Jerry's asked cynically. "How did you get aboard our ship?"

"I was thrown," MacGyver admitted. "I know it sounds crazy, but the Captain's first mate tossed me overboard."

"I don't believe it," Jerry announced.

Watson shrugged and laid the belaying pin aside. "Doesn't sound crazy to me … I'm sure Norgenson's had plenty of men thrown overboard. You must be the luckiest sailor still alive to have landed on my deck." He reached into a cabinet and pulled out a bottle of beer. "It's warm, but you look like you could use a drink."

MacGyver took the bottle. "Thanks." He'd have preferred water, but he wasn't about to insult his host by refusing. "Would it be too much if I asked what the heck is going on? Why did you ram the _Sierra_?"

"Because she's had it coming for years." Beneath their feet, the engines changed tone as they roared to full life. Watson crossed the bridge and took the helm. "She's an illegal whaler. In her lifetime, she's killed over 25,000 whales. Just that one ship by herself. I vowed to put an end to her career." Holding the helm with his left hand, he turned and extended his right hand toward MacGyver. "I'm Paul Watson, by the way."

"MacGyver." They shook hands.

"This is Jerry Doran." Jerry offered his hand as if he expected Mac to refuse to shake it. MacGyver took his hand and nodded. "The bearded fellow that you dodged earlier is Peter Woof. Where's your home port, MacGyver?"

"San Pedro Harbor, Los Angeles."

"I'd have guessed a bit north of that."

"I'm originally from Minnesota."

"Ah. I thought as much. I'm from Canada myself ... though nobody there cares to claim me." Watson shrugged as the wind from the sea whipped his thick black hair around his face. "I belong to the oceans now ... that's my only real home."

"And it's your job to save the whales?"

"By any means necessary. Believe me, I've tried diplomacy! But laws and moratoriums mean nothing to these outlaws. They pilfer the seas and flout the international maritime decrees concerning whaling… and there is no enforcement of those decrees to bring them in check. They get away with murder, in fact … and that isn't even considering the laws that they break in port or on land, defying trading agreements and licensing."

MacGyver nodded. "You can't reason with a pirate." He half-grinned at Watson. He liked the man, despite the circumstances of their meeting. "I've heard _you_ called that … but you don't seem to be beyond reason."

"Oh, just get to know him a bit," Jerry said. He'd shaken off his surprise and calmed down, listening to the two men talking. He was still looking over his shoulder frequently, frowning as the destroyer slowly and steadily closed the distance on the trawler. "He can be as stubborn as a Missouri mule when he thinks he's right."

Watson chuckled. "He's right!"

"They're getting closer, Captain …"

"I know, Jer. Go down below and tell Peter to give us more speed." Watson nodded toward MacGyver. "If they catch us, we'll have a devil of a time explaining where **you** came from … I don't suppose you brought your passport when you jumped ship?"

"Um … no." When Mac had changed clothes after being drenched with seawater and the blood of the Sierra's last kill, he'd had only one other set of clothes to put on – the ones he'd discarded the day before. He patted his pockets, unsure of what he'd find; pocket knife, waterproof matches, a set of jewelers' tools that he used to fix the bosun's radio yesterday – just the usual flotsam. But as he frisked himself, he heard a rustle and remembered the folded piece of paper that he had tucked inside his shirt next to his skin, containing a puzzle not yet solved.

"Passport's probably still under my bunk," Mac said as he unfolded the paper to examine the strange markings again. They were just as indecipherable as they had been before. Mac refolded it and put it back in his pocket. "I doubt that Captain Nordengen will courteously mail it to my embassy."

Watson nodded. "You better come with us to England. You can get a new passport from the Embassy there." The Captain noticed that Jerry hadn't left the bridge to carry out his last order. "Jerry?" Watson chivvied the man.

Jerry glanced between his captain and MacGyver. "You want me to leave you alone … with him? We don't know that we can trust him …"

"It's okay, Jerry. Trust me. Go on now." Jerry reluctantly obeyed. Watson glanced at MacGyver and nodded after the departing man. "He's a good sort … just a little nervous. He's got to do the job of a whole crew, him and Peter."

"What happened to the rest of your crew?"

"They asked to be put ashore in Leixões. I crew my ship with volunteers … and only Peter and Jerry were ready to stand by me through this. It's one thing to talk about putting your life on the line … it is another entirely to follow through. I'll force no man or woman to do more than their hearts demand of them."  
_  
_As Watson spoke, MacGyver watched him, expecting to see signs of bitterness and anger in the man. How devastating would it be for a captain to lose his crew? But Watson wasn't thinking about that.

**Mac's Voice-over:  
**_I looked at Paul Watson. I didn't see a man dwelling on what had happened, or what had been said or done before.. the man before me was focused on what would happen next, his keen mind plotting courses and scenarios through any number of possibilities and variables, thinking ahead and holding his vision up despite all odds._

Watson faced out toward the sea. "Years ago, a man who knew more about whales than I ever will told me that if I could get my act together and commit myself to help the whales, one day the whales would help me in return. Until that day, I have only people to help me get the job done. _**And**_ my mechanical Moby Dick!" He caressed the bulkhead of the Sea Shepherd lovingly. "Like that legendary leviathan," Watson smiled at the thought, "we'll fight back against the harpoons and lances with our bodies and our souls."

_As I listened to him, I found myself asking how many times had I thrown a punch. Or 'borrowed' stuff that wasn't exactly mine. Even blown stuff up when I had to. I always did it to help someone who needed it, or to save my skin. Sure, I had earned a few knocks anyway—my head was still aching from the pounding I got aboard the _Sierra_ and my ungraceful arrival on this ship!-- I already have a few scars accumulated from choosing 'the hard but right way' as Harry would have put it, most of my life. I might regret that I've had to resort to, well, 'unconventional methods' - even violence - to get the job done ... but I knew that I'd do it again if I had to. Could I really condemn Watson for his radical tactics, when I was beginning to feel his passion and even see myself in him?_

_The words escaped my lips before I realized that I was speaking aloud..._

"I guess you might be able to use an extra pair of hands, then."  
_  
_Watson grinned at him. "Well, there's not much action on the shuffleboard deck, so if you're offering, I'll gladly accept. How are you at navigation?"

"I've picked up a few things here and there," Mac said, setting down his unopened beer and moving toward the computer. "I'll do what I can … though I'm not much of a pirate," he added wryly.

"There's nothing a man can't learn!" Watson laughed.

From where he stood, MacGyver could see the wide expanse of the sea ahead of them. The waves were still energetic, but the clouds of storm that had threatened earlier now had been cleared away by a higher wind.

_I'd just volunteered to join the crew of renegade conservation group, currently being chased through foreign waters by a military vessel—and my heart felt as light as the foam being scooped from the crests of the waves. The sea had always been a legend and a mystery to me as a kid back in Minnesota. Now I felt something I had never felt before... a deep moving inside my body, as if I were both heavier and lighter than I was a few minutes ago. _

Watson was still speaking. "Just keep an eye on those radar and sonar readings … let me know if we have any proximity issues." The Captain glanced astern; the destroyer was still hanging back, a little closer but obviously not actually trying to overtake them. "I'll keep an eye on our escort …"

_Might as well be hung for a sheep as a lamb__,_ MacGyver thought. _If I had to choose sides now, I know that I'm standing where I'd want to be._


	5. Chapter 5 Acclimation

**The Sea Shepherds  
Chapter 5: Acclimation**

_The destroyer shadowed us for almost two days. Sometimes the ship would come up close, within a few hundred yards of the Sea Shepherd's stern; other times it would hang back until it was just a speck on the horizon. They didn't try to talk to us by radio; they just seemed content to escort us out of Portuguese waters._

_Once it became clear the gunship wasn't a threat, I actually began to enjoy my stay aboard Sea Shepherd. She was an older ship than the Sierra had been, but she was cleaner. The decks were not crowded with grim men, for one thing, and it smelled like a ship should smell: sea salt and diesel fuel. I hadn't realized how malodorous the other ship had been until I was no longer aboard. Now I could breathe deeply and relish the purer air. I could walk the decks without concern… well, **relatively** without concern… and get down to the joy and excitement of being miles and miles from dry land._

_I have always been fascinated by water—to which my juvenile record of 'borrowing' boats from neighbors can attest. Also there were several attempts to build my own vessels, some of which were less successful than others. As kids, my friend Jack had often teased me about my Nordic ancestry—implying that I had to be the direct descendant of a Viking, and therefore, a plunderer and pirate. I never took him too seriously—you couldn't know Jack Dalton well and not know to take everything he said with a grain of salt—but there might have been something in this. I did love being on the water—by it, on it, in it, or beneath the surface. _

_So, my circumstances had improved, but there was still a lot of work to do. I made an effort to get along with his new shipmates. Jerry was deeply suspicious and followed me around for an entire day before he convinced himself that I wasn't a threat. Peter, on the other hand, was supremely indifferent—except that he wouldn't let me anywhere near the engine room for fear that I might sabotage something. But that left the rest of the ship open to me, and I did what I could to help everywhere. _

_It started with a little knot-tying contest with Jerry, and I confess that I had a bit of an advantage. People laugh and make jokes about it, but I was a Boy Scout, and I have all the badges to prove it…including Advanced Knots and Seamanship; I could tie any knot that they asked for, left or right-handed. Which sent Jerry into flights of frustration, much to the amusement of Watson and Peter, who were watching us. When I flipped a bowline in three seconds, he insisted that I try it again—blindfolded. So I did._

_What I didn't tell him is that I could probably do it behind my back, too. I didn't want to sound like I was bragging…_

_Next, I fixed a feedback problem in the PA system, but that was no big deal; I just eliminated the extra yards of extension cords that were shorting out, and then I used the insulation that was on the surplus wiring to secure the existing connections. _

_I surpassed myself in the galley. I made a real splash with something I introduced to my new friends using an eggplant, tomato, and tofu. I called it 'hot dish', and it seemed to melt the last of the ice._

_Or it could have been the cayenne pepper._

On the second evening on the Sea Shepherd, MacGyver was walking the deck on watch when he heard the singing. The sun was wallowing in the waves, casting a long glowing path across the water. A sound almost unearthly, a low moan that crested into a piercing cry, in a pitch so unusual that Mac thought his ears were playing tricks on him as he listened. His hands touching the gunwale felt the vibration throughout the ship, and it passed through his body as well, filled him with a longing he never felt with feet on dry land.

In the path of the burning sun, a great shape rose from the water. Forsaking for a few seconds the cradle of the sea, thrusting itself into the air as if it could suddenly deny gravity and take flight, the massive head of a great whale emerged into the twilight. Sunlight gleamed on the dark skin and flashed like a star on the patterns of white decorating the flanks of the creature.

It was only a few seconds, but time seemed to slow down as MacGyver watched. The head of the beast turned toward the ship, toward him, and regarded him with one great eye, as big as Mac's closed fist, embedded in the wall of the creature's flesh. Mac held his breath as he felt himself regarded, measured.

Then the water fountained high as the leviathan lay back gracefully and was eagerly enfolded in the arms of the sea, just as the last glimmer of sunlight was drawn down into the deeps, and the water droplets fell like stars.

Mac released his breath. His skin was covered with goosebumps. The vision had only taken seconds, but he felt as if he had been standing on the deck for an hour. He could still hear the song of the whale, fainter now, echoing like laughter beneath the weight of the night. He resisted a silly urge to leap into the water to look in on the whale in its own watery world, as the whale had done to him.

"He's curious about you." Watson's voice came out of the darkness nearby. Mac looked around as the ships lights began to awaken across the deck. He saw the captain where he was standing, leaning against the cabin where he must have seen everything that had happened.

"He?" The faint songs were still ringing; Mac spoke softly as if to avoid scaring away the wonder of the moment. "How can you tell?"

"His size, mostly. The distance from the eye to the fin, and to the dorsal crest. If we'd had a bit more light you could have made out the chevrons better, and his color. Plus, he was on his own. If he had breached while the sun was higher, it would have been because he was showing off for his cow, not for you."

MacGyver chuckled. "Guess he decided I wasn't his type." Watson flashed a grin in the waning light.

They listened to the eerie music, leaning against the rail. The whale's singing was answered in the distance by another voice, then another. "I've never heard so many whales singing at the same time," MacGyver said. Then he admitted, "Well—to be honest—I've only ever heard a whale sing tonight, though I knew that they could. Does the sound attract all the others?"

"There's only about three of them. They're following us…or rather they're swimming the same way we are. They're ahead of us now."

"I'm glad they're not going the other way," MacGyver added, "Even with the _Sierra_ out of commission for a while."

Watson sighed. "I hope some day to see that ship on the bottom. She'll be crippled for a while, like you say, but they'll be able to fix her, I think. They have the resources, certainly. But I'd give a lot to know where the rest of the fleet is skulking right now."

"The rest of the fleet?" Mac turned toward Watson. "You mean, there's more than one?"

"'More than one?' Why, there's hundreds! The whaling industry is multi-million-dollar business. They sail on every ocean. Some, like the _Sierra_, actually follow the whales' migrations, killing relentlessly regardless of season."

Something clicked inside of MacGyver; in his mind, he reexamined the folded paper that he had inside his shirt. "I need to check something," he said abruptly. "Can I look at your nautical charts?"


End file.
